These Wounds Won't Seem To Heal
by carlasbarlow
Summary: Set on the seven year anniversary of Carla Connor's rape. Carla is struggling to lay old ghosts to rest. Contains references to sexual abuse and self harm.
1. Chapter 1

**Peter's POV**

Peter sighed deeply as he shuffled himself onto the stool, propping his elbows onto the bar counter and resting his head in his hands. It was the end of a very long work day and he was relieved more than anything to be able to take the weight off his feet. The factory had been nonstop which wasn't unusual but today seemed busier than most. The girls rallied together to make the most of the few unused pieces of fabric before the suppliers arrived with the newest stock, Sally marched around giving orders as per usual and making sure they were all up to speed on the latest order and Beth and Kirk were off sick (although in actual fact they were having a duvet day) which left Peter to do the brunt of the deliveries himself. Despite the girls having been in the factory all day without any management present they were still able to complete the tasks assigned to them for their shift and when Peter arrived back from his last delivery shortly after 4.30pm he allowed them go home early. He should have known none of them would actually return to their homes as he could hear them chatting amongst themselves in the booth behind him.

"Rough day?" Johnny appeared at the opposite side of the bar passing Peter a glass of orange juice. It was the only thing he ever drank in the pub and so he was rarely asked if he preferred something different. Peter nodded thankfully and took a sip of his beverage before setting it carefully on the paperboard coaster in front of him. He lifted the one sat beside it and began twirling it between his fingers, a habit he had often found himself doing as a method of distraction. "You could say that, yeah. Been left on me tod all day. Haven't even had time to bless meself." Peter replied hastily, still unsettled from the day he had endured. Johnny wiped the to of the counter with a dish cloth before throwing it over his shoulder and standing in front of Peter. "Carla off sick today?" It wasn't like Carla to take a day off work for any reason unless it was for a last minute shopping trip with Michelle. "Who knows? She never turned up, I've been calling and leaving messages all day. Would have been nice to have given me a heads up."

As he continued to fiddle with the coaster he felt a small tap on his shoulder and he turned his head to see Sinead standing behind him smiling sheepishly. "Uh, Mr Barlow, I just wanted to make sure it's still okay for me to leave work early tomorrow." Peter furrowed his brows in confusion, trying to recall a previous conversation in which she had first requested this. "Are you sure you don't mean next week?" Sinead shook her head quickly, shuffling from one foot to the other as she was eager to return to the group of girls from the factory who had just ordered another round. "No, it's definitely tomorrow. I asked weeks ago, I remember having to write it on the rota; '20th September, Sinead leaving at 1pm.' Do you need me to go and get it?" Peter began to shake his head, trusting that this was something she had cleared with Carla on an earlier date. "That's fine, Sin- wait, did you say the 20th?" Peter's eyes widened when it suddenly dawned on him what today's date was. "Yeah, today's the 19th, tomorrow's the 20th.. Is everything alright, Mr Barlow?" Peter jumped up from the stool, reaching into his pocket and grabbing a handful of loose coins and placing them on the counter before turning and leaving the Rovers in a bigger rush than when he had first came in.

Peter burst through the doors and strut out onto the cobbled street, muttering to himself. "It's the 19th, of course it's the 19th. How could I be so stupid?" He chastised himself and made his way towards Roy's Rolls, hoping to find Carla in the flat upstairs. He knew she wouldn't be hiding in the factory, despite it being her favourite place to be alone, because not long before he was making his way around the business, checking the office and store rooms before locking the doors and setting the alarm. She wasn't in the Rovers which would have been his next port of call so he thought best to check at the café first. He was greeted by the usual hustle and bustle of people talking amongst themselves and eating various meals as he made his way straight to the counter where the frail but robust man offered his salutations and requested his order. "Sorry, Roy, I'm not staying. Have you seen Carla today?" Roy raised his finger as though the thought had suddenly sprung into his head. "Ah yes, Peter. She departed rather early this morning, didn't say where she was going but I'm not one to pry where information hasn't been offered willingly." Peter thanked him and left the café, sighing as the hopes of finding Carla were becoming rather slim.

As he made his way across the street towards Victoria Court, hoping that Michelle might know of Carla's whereabouts, the small frame of a woman caught his eye. She was sitting alone in the community garden, a place which he didn't often frequent but had always appreciated as a quiet area where a lot of people seemed to go when they needed time to themselves. He found himself veering off course and making his way towards the garden and as he got closer he was able to distinguish the woman's familiar features. She was sat alone on the bench with her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped firmly around them. Long strands of brunette hair had fallen gracefully over her face, covering what Peter knew would be tear stained cheeks. He approached her slowly, clearing his throat as though to announce his presence. When she didn't respond to his arrival he stepped closer and sat down on the bench beside her, keeping a small distance between the two as he didn't want to startle her or impose on what was obviously a very bad day. They sat in silence for what seemed like hours but it was a comforting silence. Peter wanted nothing more than to put his arm around her shoulders and draw her in as close as he had done all those years ago.

Eventually Carla lifted her head to reveal exactly what Peter had suspected. Her eyes were red from crying which in turn had left black trails of her mascara underneath. She looked tired and weary and Peter was instantly filled with guilt that he hadn't remember why today was so important. If he had known he could have closed the factory and spent the day with her so at least she wouldn't have been going through this alone. Carla was stubborn, she would have fought tooth and nail to keep Peter at bay, today of all days, but he had been there for her seven years ago when it began and he promised he would continue to be there for her whenever and if ever she should need him. As he stared into her eyes he knew straight away that she was thankful for his being here. Her eyes began to well up and Peter didn't need her to say a word to know what she needed. Reaching out, he wrapped his two arms around her fragile frame and hugged her close to him. She had let go of her knees and allowed her feet to return to their position on the ground as she turned her body towards his and emersed herself fully into the embrace, sobbing quietly into his shoulder.

"I'm here, Carla. I'm here."


	2. Chapter 2

**Carla's POV**

The unwelcome sounds of the now busy café soon made their way into the otherwise silent flat above. It had been empty for hours now as Roy had always preferred an early start to the day in order to prepare himself for the morning rush. The only occupant, however, was still fast asleep on the sofa. The coffee table was filled with various bits of paper that had been tore and scrunched into balls, remnants of words and doodles still visible. There were two empty wine bottles and a glass that contained a small amount of red liquid within. It was as though she had been preparing for this day for a while and knowing that she wouldn't be able to fall asleep of her own accord she drank just enough to allow herself to drift off effortlessly. As the commotion from downstairs began to increase in volume, Carla woke with a start.

It took her a few moments to gather herself, wiping the hair from over her face and glancing around in order to piece together where exactly she was. She didn't make a habit of falling asleep on the sofa but since her bedroom was right beside Roy's and the walls were thinner than a sheet of paper she didn't want to disturb him as he slept. Carla sat up, rubbing her hand over her forehead in the hope of easing her pounding headache she had obtained from the amount of wine she had consumed, but also from the state of stress she had worked herself into. She lifted her phone from the coffee table and held it up to her face, squinting slightly as the light that illuminated from it was brighter than she had expected. She wasn't surprised when she seen that it was already late morning but she hadn't expected the number of missed calls and messages from Peter. She knew she should have reminded him what today was, he understood more than anybody, but she just wanted to be alone.

After a lot of time coaxing herself off of the sofa, Carla got up and began to get herself ready. She changed into a pair of dark jeans and a black baggy top before applying a small amount of mascara, hoping that it would help her to appear less fatigued. She threw the long strap of her favourite black leather bag over her shoulder before making her way out the door and down the stairs. As she entered the café she couldn't help but strain her eyes as the sunlight made its way through the windows. The café was full of people, all eating their lunch and drinking coffee and taking no notice whatsoever of Carla who was stood light a rabbit in headlights. She was lost in her mind again, lingering in the same spot for a moment before Roy's voice brought her back to earth. "Good afternoon, Carla. I trust you slept well?" Carla shook her head, recollecting her thoughts and offering a false but friendly smile to her friend. "I did.. I'm sorry, Roy, I need to pop out for bit. I'll see you later, yeah?" Without giving him a chance to reply she made her way out of the café and into the street.

The familiar sounds of the traffic and clangour from the building site seemed so distant to her although it still rang through her ears. She felt weak and dazed but just assumed it was the amount of alcohol she had drank the previous night. She glanced around the street, looking for somewhere quiet she could sit for a moment to gather herself when her eyes fell upon the community garden. She had never spent any proper time there before but she knew it was a place in which she wouldn't be disturbed and since her car was still in the garage it was the only place within walking distance that she could take a few moments to organise her thoughts. She made her way towards the garden, hoping that she wouldn't bump into anyone she knew, and as she arrived she looked around. It was a beautiful sight, one she had never taken the time to appreciate before. Various species of colourful plants and flowers surrounded her and as she took a breath she could smell the overwhelming scent of lavender. She understood now why it was the perfect place to think and she took a seat on the nearby bench, allowing herself to slip into her own little world and almost completely unaware that the reality of the street was mere metres away.

It didn't take long before she found herself lost in thought; thoughts about _him_. It was exactly seven years to the day and no matter how hard she tried to move on and get past it, Frank Foster still had control over her life and she despised him for that. She shut her eyes tight as her mind brought her back to where and when it happened. She could still feel the tension in the air as they fought, his malicious stare still burnt into her memories. She just wanted him to leave, to allow her the contentment of feeling safe and secure in her own home but he took that from her. He took everything from her. She moved herself further back onto the bench she was sat upon, lifting her legs and hugging her knees to her chest as she felt a stray tear make its way down her cheek. She could still feel the way he grabbed her arms and forced her against the door, her blood running cold as she knew what was going to happen but her body froze in complete crippling fear. Carla had always been feisty and never seen herself as a pushover so she had assumed if she had ever needed to either fight or flee, she would stand her ground and fight but this encounter had rendered her completely vulnerable and only then did she discover that the only thing she wanted to was run. She was terrified.

" _It's your fault, you made me do it._ " Carla had thought about these words for the past seven years and had believed every word of them. She thought he had loved her and yet he hurt her in a way that nobody ever has. What had she possibly done to him to have deserved such a punishment? For years she had lived in fear of any man coming close to her, of people touching her without notice, of being alone with these thoughts that would never subside. Despite the fact that Frank was dead and gone he still made sure Carla would suffer this for the rest of her life. He stripped her of her dignity, her pride and herself, and what made matters worse was that nobody had believed her. " _I raped you. I...raped...you._ " His words taunted her as if he were standing before her speaking at that moment. Her throat ached as she tried to hold back the pain and tears that threatened to expose themselves and eventually won. " _Today was the best...I screwed you twice!_ "

Carla was so overwhelmed with emotion that she hadn't even recognised that a man was sat beside her on the bench. She sniffled and raised her head slowly, peering through the gaps of her hair that had fallen over her face to see Peter watching her sympathetically. Peter was the only person who had been there for her throughout the aftermath of what happened and the trial. He knew her better than anybody and was the only person that she allowed to see her break down and crumble into a emotional state. As he spoke to her his words were soft and understanding and she knew she would be okay. She fell into his arms as he reached out for her and buried her head in his shoulder, sobbing erratically. She didn't need to say anything for Peter to know how she was feeling and she took a great deal of comfort in the fact that he was willing to just be there for her, to let her cry into him and to hold her. She held onto his arms as she wept and for the first time in seven years Carla felt safe.


End file.
